


Wine and Dine

by saeriibon



Series: Sweet and Sour [2]
Category: Ace Combat
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, More food stuffs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28251672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saeriibon/pseuds/saeriibon
Summary: long caster decides to take bandog under his wing in the culinary arts... (if only he could "take" him in other ways as well huehuehue)
Relationships: Bandog/Long Caster
Series: Sweet and Sour [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2069568
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Wine and Dine

Bandog felt a pair of sturdy arms wrap around his waist, pulling whoever was behind him flush against his back. He instinctively froze for a moment, never having been touched in such a way before. Soft and gentle, reassuring and warm. His heart fluttered, embarrassment coloring his cheeks.  _ ‘You’re a grown man, god dammit. Get over yourself.’ _

"Don't sneak up on me like that when I'm trying to work," he chided, half-heartedly trying to shrug the other person off of him.

"Just wanted to see how you were doing," Long Caster’s voice rumbled over Bandog’s shoulder.

… It had been almost a week since Bandog and Long Caster formally met each other. Since that fateful evening, the latter was gracious enough to invite the former to his home on the outskirts of Oured. At first, it was just to give basic cooking lessons, but in less than a week’s worth of time exchanging stories and experiences, Long Caster found Bandog’s presence to be a welcome addition in his life and vice versa. Though, neither would care to admit it outright.

There was some confusion that the two were dating, mostly on Count’s part, and it took some reassurance on Long Caster’s part (and profuse denial on Bandog’s) to convince him and the others that they were just two people who naturally hit it off with each other. At least, that’s what  _ they _ would like to believe...

As Long Caster looked over at the cutting board Bandog was using, he furrowed his brow. "Hm… Hold on for a second…"

Before he could ask, Bandog felt Long Caster’s hands move from his waist to his wrists.

"It’s better to cut at this angle…" Long Caster made small adjustments to Bandog’s form as he spoke, "... And keep your fingers curled inwards here, so you don't accidentally chop 'em off and get blood all over the food."

"And which one would be worse: a missing finger or spoiled food?" Bandog smirked, having given up on trying to dislodge himself from Long Caster’s embrace. He wondered if the other man could feel his quickened pulse through the veins in his wrists, and as if on cue, the thumbs that rested on them lightly traced a couple of small circles over the soft inner skin. Bandog felt the corner of his mouth twitch as his smirk began to falter.

Long Caster chuckled, seemingly unaware of Bandog’s inner turmoil, "I'd rather not have either happen, to be completely honest."

“Right…”

“Need me to help with anything?” Long Caster finally stepped back, giving Bandog some breathing room.

‘ _ He probably has no concept of personal space or something… Yeah, that’s it. Probably doesn’t even know he’s doing it… _ ’ Bandog sighed as he finished dicing the last tomato, bringing the cutting board up to slide all of the bright, red cubes into the bowl beside him. “I don’t need any help… All I have to do now is mix this stuff together, right?”

“Well, you  _ toss _ it as opposed to just  _ mixing  _ it.”

Bandog turned to look incredulously at Long Caster, who was leaning on the kitchen island, “There’s a difference?”

“I’d say so, yeah.” After a moment of the two staring at each other, Long Caster shrugged, “Do what feels right for you. Just be sure to keep it nice and easy, though. Don’t want to make a mess.”

Bandog shook his head and carried on, doing his best to emulate “tossing” while struggling to keep all of the ingredients from straying outside of the bowl. As everything got mixed together, a foreign, but otherwise pleasant aroma wafted out. “What kind of a dish is this anyway?”

“Ah, it’s Italian.”

“Italian, huh? I think I’ve heard that once or twice, but...”

“Really? Well, I guess I can’t really blame you. It comes from a small region that’s essentially on the border of Sapin and Ratio.” As he spoke, Long Caster walked over to the oven to take out the slices of bread that had been toasting in it.

“I said I didn’t need help,” Bandog muttered as the tray was placed next to him on the counter.

Long Caster sheepishly grinned, “Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself.”

“Are you that excited over this? I mean, we just ate some of this stuff at the gala a few days ago, seriously.”

“Yeah, well…” Long Caster trailed off, “I’ll leave you to it, then. I’m going to go see if I have any good bottles of Chardonnay.”

Bandog watched him scamper off towards the wine closet that was around the corner. He knew he was all about food, but it still took Bandog by surprise when Long Caster had shown off just how well-supplied his kitchen was.

_ “You’re telling me you had an entire closet built… for wine?” _

_ “It’s always good to be prepared,” Long Caster stated matter-of-factly. _

_ “Hmph. I can’t disagree with that, but still…” Bandog folded his arms and wondered to himself, ‘We’re both AWACS working for the same military, but where the hell does this guy get the money to invest in stuff like this?’ _

By the time Bandog had finished administering uneven spoonfuls of the mixture onto each slice of bread, Long Caster had returned, precariously balancing a bottle of golden liquid, some wine glasses, and what looked like a deformed vase in his arms. Bandog cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing as he focused on plating the food.

“Have you ever seen a decanter before?” Long Caster asked casually as he uncorked the bottle of wine.

“I don’t think I’ve even heard of that, let alone seen one,” Bandog replied, a little too focused on arranging the platter. ‘ _ What orientation would look better? Maybe if I… Wait, what the hell am I doing?! Just put the damn bread on the plate, Bandog,’ _ he mentally berated himself. “I’m guessing that vase thing is what you’re talking about?” He nodded his head towards the oddly shaped glass in Long Caster’s hand as he placed the array of freshly prepared bruschetta on the island counter.

“You got it… Decanting helps separate any sediment in the wine and lets it “breathe,” so to speak.” Long Caster held the bottom of the wine bottle in one hand, slowly tipping it so it laid parallel with the countertop.

Bandog was afraid he was going to spill it or drop the bottle entirely, mouth opening in wordless warning before a thin, aureate stream fell from the bottle and into the decanter.

A mirthful glint flashed across his eyes as Long Caster observed his companion’s reaction, “Worried for a second there, Bandog?”

Bandog just huffed in reply, watching the wine elegantly flow without wavering. It was a little impressive, he had to admit, given how there was over a foot of clearance between the lips of the bottle and the decanter.

“Sometimes, you can do this with a candle beneath the neck of the bottle, so you can see the sediment better, depending on the wine,” Long Caster idly explained as he righted the bottle once more.

“You do this to impress the ladies or something?” Bandog ribbed.

With the same amount of care as before, Long Caster poured the filtered contents of the decanter into the two wine glasses, “I do this because I like to properly enjoy my drinks. It’d be a disservice to not do it otherwise.” ‘ _ Although… I was showing off a little too, just for you. _ ’

Bandog slowly nodded and took one of the glasses, unceremoniously bringing it to his lips when Long Caster interrupted him.

“Wait! Before that, we should toast to your first, real dish that you made!” He lifted his own glass up, “Cheers, Mr. Guard Dog.”

“Heh. It was nothing… Seriously, I was expecting more of a challenge,” Bandog followed suit and clinked his glass with Long Caster’s.

Long Caster gave a look analogous to  _ “I told you so” _ and took a small sip of his drink.

Bandog watched for a moment before he drank as well. He didn’t bring up beforehand that he wasn’t exactly inclined towards wine, preferring a cheap can of beer over anything, maybe whiskey if he was feeling particularly special. However, be it the decanting, or the nature of the wine itself, or the fact that he wasn’t drinking alone in his shitty apartment, he found himself pleasantly surprised. It was dry and a little acidic, bordering between lemon and… green apple? Rich and smooth… ‘ _ Just like Lo- _ ’ Bandog coughed into his fist and cleared his throat, stopping his train of thought. ‘ _ Seriously?! What has gotten into you… _ ’

“I take it you’re not a fan?” Long Caster tilted his head.

“It’s fine!” Bandog started, “It just… went down the wrong pipe.”

“You don’t have to lie, I mean I won’t be offended or anything,” Long Caster shrugged and reached for a piece of bruschetta, “I know wine is not for everyone.”

“I mean it, it’s fine…” Bandog sipped his drink again for emphasis, “See? It, uh, pairs well with the… Shit, you know what I mean,” he rubbed the back of his neck, trying and failing to seem cultured. He waited for a reply, dread creeping up his spine as he realized that Long Caster was inspecting his food now.

“You could’ve been more consistent with measuring out the toppings, but otherwise the presentation is passable.”

Bandog can’t remember the last time he felt  _ this _ nervous before. He didn’t fancy himself a people pleaser, but a small and unspoken part of him prayed that Long Caster would at least  _ like _ his cooking to some degree. He watched him take a bite, a long pause filling the kitchen as he awaited his assessment.

“You know,” Long Caster spoke in between chews, “There something about food that, when it’s cooked by another person for you, makes it taste better than anything else.” He fondly regarded the platter before he reached for another piece, “Not bad for a beginner.” Nodding to Bandog, “Well? You ought to have some too,” he urged.

Hesitantly reaching out, Bandog took his own piece and ate it. Compared to what he had at the gala, it was… painfully average to say the least. Granted, the recipe and ingredients were kept simple for his sake, but the praise he just received didn’t seem justified at all. Then again, he’s eating his own cooking, not someone else’s. Long Caster’s former comment lingered in his mind. “You should cook me something next time.”

Long Caster gave an enthusiastic smile, “I’d love to,” he sipped some of his wine, “Anything specific you had in mind?”

“Hm… Surprise me.” Bandog was tempted to make some ridiculous request, but the earnestness in Long Caster’s eyes made him reconsider. Not that it was a bad thing, but he was worried he might actually go through with whatever Bandog asked of him. In that moment, he found himself wishing that he too had that same, youthful passion for something in his life that Long Caster had for food.

“”Surprise you,” huh. I can do that,” Long Caster nodded his head as he looked around, tossing ideas in his head. A playfully mischievous look crossed his face when his gaze finally settled on Bandog, who was in the middle of taking a few gulps from his drink.

“... What?”

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

* * *

… It was easy for the two of them to lose track of time, talking, eating, drinking. At some point, they had moved from the kitchen to the living room, Chardonnay having long since been replaced with Zinfandel and evening having set to night…

“Need a refill?” Long Caster held out the crimson bottle towards Bandog who sat opposite of him on the same couch.

Bandog raised a palm, “No… That stuff’s way too sweet for me. Starting to give me a headache,” he slumped against the armrest.

Long Caster took the opportunity to fill his own glass, “Don’t like sweet things? Should’ve told me sooner; I would’ve chosen a different bottle.” 

“Should’ve, would’ve, could’ve, didn’t…” Bandog slurred.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

Bandog grumbled and placed his empty glass on the coffee table, “Yeah, sure. I’m drunk, whatever…” He dragged a hand down his flushed face, “What were we talking about again?”

Long Caster raised an eyebrow before shaking his head with a chortle, “Something about Trigger’s obsession with tunnels?”

“Right!” Bandog snapped his fingers, “I swear, that dumbass treats flying like a game or something.”

“Maybe someone like him can afford it, given how skilled he is. Although, it’s always nerve wracking, the stunts he pulls...” Long Caster mused into his glass.

“Swear to God, I thought he crashed back in Roca Roja this one time…” 

“Were you worried about him?”

“At the time? No.”

“So, you had faith in his abilities, then?”

“No, not like that either…” Bandog sighed and pulled up one of his legs, “I could care less about what happened to him or what he did. Of course, after everything, I feel like the biggest dumbass of them all.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’d say everyone is a little bit of a… dumbass… in one way or another.”

Bandog scoffed, “Man, it’s weird hearing that word come out of your mouth.”

Long Caster smiled, “I try to keep it clean.”

“You should try swearing more. I heard it’s good for you.”

“Says who?”

“I dunno, I remember seeing or reading about it somewhere.”

“Quite the wealth of knowledge you have,” Long Caster jested.

“Hah, shut up.”

“Make me.”

There was a lilt to Long Caster’s cadence, almost as if he were asking a question as opposed to making a demand, and a rosy, telltale hue on his cheeks as he nonchalantly fiddled with the buttons on his collar.

Part of him was beginning to catch onto what Long Caster was insinuating, while another part hoped it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Regardless, whether from embarrassment or the wine, Bandog felt his face heat up even more. ‘ _ You son of a bitch… _ ’ he narrowed his eyes, “You’re drunk too.”

“Not to get pedantic on you, but I prefer the term “buzzed” in this situation,” Long Caster snickered as he finished his nth serving of wine, allowing it to join Bandog’s emptied glass on the table. “You know… you look pretty good in red… Like a tomato or a strawberry,” he shifted his weight a little, looking away from Bandog, “Heh, sorry. I can’t help but tease you a little bit.”

“Am I that easy to bait?”

“You make it sound like I’m being malicious.”

“So, if you’re not doing it to be an asshole,” Bandog folded his arms, “then why are you doing it? What’s the point?”

“Oh… you know…” Long Caster dismissively waved a hand, “Friends banter with each other, right? That’s what they do.”

“I’m starting to doubt that you only want to be “friends”...”

“Are you confusing your feelings with something else?”

“And what would that be?”

“Hm…”

Bandog’s heart hammered in his chest. Ever since he got here, no, ever since they first met he had been bothered by something. He chalked it up to personality at first. But, when observing him around others, like the LRSSG, Long Caster wasn’t as “hands on'' with them as he was with Bandog. He’d give the occasional shoulder pat, sure, but he still held himself at a distance. Warm and far away, like the sun. Except when it came to Bandog himself. He knew Long Caster was stalling right now, waiting for Bandog to speak because they both  _ knew _ what was happening between them. Yet still…

“Shit…” Bandog muttered.

Long Caster apologetically laughed, “Trust me, I wasn’t planning on having things end up this way tonight, but… You’ll forgive me, just this once, right?”

Bandog slowly inhaled, then exhaled. “You can make up for it with that “surprise” you promised to make me earlier.”

“Fair enough,” Long Caster propped his elbow on his knee and rested his chin in his hand, “I was thinking of having it be made tomorrow, but do you mind if I treat you to an appetizer of sorts right now?”

“I’m not that hungry.”

‘ _ I am.’ _

“Long Caster…?” Apprehension laced Bandog’s voice as he pulled back a little, mostly to give some room for the other as he moved closer to him.

"Bandog, I… Can I… May I kiss you?"

Bandog felt his heart seize up for a moment. ' _ I have to be dreaming right now. No way did he just ask me that _ . _ But, if it's a dream then… there's nothing to lose, right?' _ He wet his lips, tearing his gaze away from Long Caster’s. His olive-green eyes were nearly swallowed by the depths of his pupils as he practically hovered over Bandog, watching, waiting. "I… You… " He let out a shaky breath, slowly making eye contact again. "It probably won’t be great, but… go ahead." Bandog felt the couch move as Long Caster shifted his weight, one hand coming up to cup his cheek while the other rested on his waist.

"Thank you," Long Caster whispered as he brought his lips to Bandog’s.

"Mm- " Long Caster’s facial hair tickled for a moment, causing Bandog to squirm a little as he eased into the feeling of it. It was a soft and simple kiss, almost hesitant, but as soon as Long Caster pulled back, he dove right in again. Bandog felt a tongue brush over his slightly chapped bottom lip and he returned the gesture, tasting remnants of the Zinfandel and earning a pleased sound from Long Caster. The hand on his face had worked its way to his hair, fingers slowly running through and brushing it back. Bandog’s breath hitched at the gesture, interrupting the kiss for a moment.

“S-sorry if I’m being too forward,” Long Caster immediately apologized as he sat back. “That was- “

“It’s not your fault,” Bandog reassured, “I’m just not used to…” He sighed, “It’s been a while since anyone’s ever… Nevermind.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” Bandog winced at his own eagerness. “No...” he softly added and reached out to grab something, anything to bring Long Caster back, to experience that sensation again.

Long Caster was happy to oblige, pulling Bandog closer to him. “I do hope… you get used to… this,” he added between the kisses that he trailed from Bandog’s lips to his neck. There he stayed, pecking and licking at the salty skin, one hand pressed into the small of Bandog’s back, the other weaving through his hair again.

It takes everything in his power to not moan outright, and Bandog can feel his own hands aimlessly clawing at the back of Long Caster’s shirt. “If this is just the appetizer,” he panted out, “... then, what the hell is the main course gonna be?” For a moment he feels teeth on his neck and the hands on his body tighten their hold of him.

“It’s a surprise, remember?” Long Caster murmured into the crook of his neck, “You’re going to have to wait until tomorrow for it. Also… don’t expect it to be like  _ this _ . I fully intend to put my culinary skills to the test for you.”

“I don’t know whether I should be excited or disappointed now…” Bandog heard Long Caster chuckle at his comment.

“You’ll enjoy it. At least, I think you will.”

“Heh. I’d better, or else.”

“Or else what?” Long Caster goaded.

Without skipping a beat, Bandog smuggly replied, “I’ll only make you microwave ready meals for a whole week.”

Long Caster blanched, “Now I  _ really _ have to make sure you’ll like it.”

The two of them broke off into laughter at that. 

‘ _ I don’t think that’ll be hard to do.’ _

**Author's Note:**

> tbh, i hate wine... i'm more of a schnapps and irish cream type of person, of which i have been craving since this whole quarantine thing has started OTL


End file.
